Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: trey anastasio
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Here’s something else that has nothing, nothing at all, to do with the flaming wreckage of a failed experiment our republic and culture has become: Phil and some very special Phriends from the Warfield in SanFrancisco on 4/15/99. Trapqueen Applefucker and Page from The Phishes joined Phil, along with Steve Kimock and John Molo, and the whole thing kicks ass, starting with the half-hour Viola Lee. Grateful Deads are playing Phosh music, Phishes are playing choogly tunes: mass hysteria.

And, for your convenience, below is the set list and you can just click on whichever time code you want. I do things for you people.

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As you know, TotD has eyes, ears, and genitals everywhere, especially the Foot Locker. (It’s been a while since I recommended taking your dick out at the Foot Locker, and that’s a sad oversight: you totally should. You feel better afterwards.) Pictures, gossip, popular opinion: all of these flow inwards and flood Fillmore South in a sad, weird, and lonely Grateful Dead juice.

And it is one of these popular opinions that I must refute, this idea that Young John Mayer is more suited to the Dead’s music than Tralfamadore Abilene. I have seen more than one person say that they were “gay for Trey, but gayer for Mayer.” And while all things that rhyme are true, this one is also false, and for one reason.

The last three Dead (Or What’s Left Of ‘Em) shows that TotD attended, Tripoli Ardennes was the guitarist. Therefore, he is better. Now, if Josh Meyers wants to swing down here on the way to Colorado and pick me up (I will not chip in for gas) and make me his tour buddy for the rest of the summer, then he would be better than Tr@y.

I hope that settles things.

(Also: in the background of the photo is longtime Dead photog Jay Blakesberg, and now I can’t get the image of him and Jeff Kravitz doing an Enemy at the Gates thing with each other.)

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You’ll excuse me, Enthusiasts, if I repeat myself, but this question has been fingering my mind’s butthole all evening.

Ew.

Shut up, you. Anyway, to recap:

WHAT THE FUCK DOES “FAN DEMAND” MEAN? That phrase refers–and this is the closest I can get to a precise definition–to an assumption based on an aggregate sample of emotions. You send up a publicity trial balloon and then read the response: this gives you an idea of what “fan demand” is. It’s not an actual financial metric.

It’s like McDonald’s reporting their earnings as being higher because of “customer demand” (“Those folks were really hungry, so we figured that was worth a few hundred million dollars.”)

It makes no sense: I thought at first that “fan demand” referred to the projected earnings (the estimated profit) and that the Dead had shattered those projections, but that can’t be right: the Dead knew how much they’d make just as anyone with the ability to do basic math did. (Number of seats x price of ticket) + (Number of seats x average merch purchase) + non-attendee merch + sale of access to the band + webcasts. Hell, I did the math. Peter Shapiro sure as shit did the math.

So: what can it mean? Was there some sort of Kickstarter I wasn’t aware of that raised the initial funds necessary just to get everyone in the same room? A petition written down on $10 million in small, non-sequential bills? I don’t know, and the article does not explain it.

I am genuinely stymied and would like someone to tell me what is happening, please.

There are also many missing revenue sources in this graph, some more legitimate than others. Spies in the Dead’s accountant’s office have slipped me the full story; TotD can now present Additional Incomes From The Farewell Shoes:

Since around ’89, Billy has employed a team of orphans as pickpockets; they made a bundle in Chicago.

Kickbacks from the taco truck.

Ad deal with DirecTV for the blimp.

Bribes from Creepy Ernie to wear his clothes.

Several thoroughly-insured guitars got “stolen.”

Mickey’s mallet endorsement.

Payment from artificial rainbow company to advertise their product (Santa Clara only).

20% cut of all sanctioned Three Card Monty games in the stadium. (There were a suspicious amount of Three card Monty games going on in Chicago. Ask anyone who was there. Martin and I had figured out the game and were about to win us some money when Chris–whose brilliant book Paradise Now can be purchased by clicking here–stopped us, as he was raised in New York City, and is therefore street-smart. A very nice street, but still: very smart.)

If you gave Peter Shapiro five grand in cash, he would let you watch the spy cams he had installed in the band’s dressing room for a couple minutes.

Jeff Chimenti and Bruce Hornsby broke into the 49ers locker room and stole a bunch of shit.

Jeff Chimenti and Bruce Hornsby broke into the Field Museum and stole the T-Rex skull and sold it on Ebay.